The Keeper of the Door eBook

The plot had been of Kobad Shikan’s devising.
Nick had been on the watch for it for some time, had
penetrated the city nightly in the garb of a moonstone-seller,
collecting evidence, and—­most masterly stroke
of all—­he had drawn the Rajah into partnership
with him. It was due to Nick’s influence
alone that the Rajah had not been caught in Kobad
Shikan’s toils. Thanks to Nick’s steady
call upon his loyalty, he had remained staunch.
But Kobad Shikan had been too powerful a tactician
to overthrow openly. They had been forced to
work against him in secret.

“The Rajah calls Nick his brother,” said
Olga.

“Like his cheek!” said Noel. “Not
that I can talk myself. I took the liberty of
kicking him off his own premises once.”
He chuckled involuntarily at the recollection and
commanded her to continue.

So Olga went on to tell of old Kobad’s final
coup and of how the Rajah, receiving news of some
mischief afoot, had sent an urgent message of warning
that had taken Nick straight to the Palace. Thence
he had gone in disguise to the haunts of Kobad Shikan’s
conspirators, but here he had received a check.
Kobad Shikan, fearing treachery among his followers,
had taken elaborate precautions to conceal his proceedings,
and for hours Nick had been kept searching vainly for
a clue. Then at last he had succeeded in running
the truth to earth, had discovered the whole ghastly
plot barely half an hour before the time fixed for
its consummation, and had raced to the mess-house
with his warning.

Olga’s fingers tightened in his hold. “Oh,
did you know he was there?” she said.

Briefly he made answer. “Yes, he tripped
me. I believe he was half-drunk with opium or
something. What happened? Was he killed?”

Noel’s voice was imperious. She answered
him instantly, seeing he demanded it.

“Yes.”

Noel drew a deep breath. “Thank God for
that!” he said. “Then you are free’”

Olga was silent.

“You are free?” he repeated, with quick
interrogation.

Yet an instant longer she hesitated. Then she
leaned her head against his pillow with a little sob.
“No,—­I’m not free, Noel.
I—­have given myself—­to you!”

“Because I’m blind!” he said.

“No, dear, no! Once free—­I should
have come to you—­in any case.”

“Would you?” he said. “Would
you? You’re quite sure? You’re
not saying it out of pity? I won’t have
you marry me out of pity, Olga. I couldn’t
stand it.”

“Oh, you needn’t be afraid of that!”
she said. Then a moment later, “When I
marry you,” she murmured softly, “it will
be—­for love.”

There was no mistaking the sincerity of the words,
though even then as it were in spite of himself he
knew that the passionate adoration he had poured out
to her had awakened no answering rapture in her heart.
The very fashion of her surrender told him this.
He might come first with her indeed, but the full
gift was no longer hers to offer.